


When In Boston

by turnyourankle



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Christmas, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey is perfectly fine with Mike thinking he’s a Scrooge, or a Grinch or whatever other Christmas villain he has in mind. It’s better than him knowing he's the only reason they’re in Boston to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When In Boston

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sway/gifts).



> Many thanks to both my betas -- whose identities are also currently under lock and key!

Harvey waits as long as he possibly can before calling his brother. At a certain point it’s unavoidable, though: Marcus and Katie are expecting him at their house in Jersey in about two hours, and he and Mike are still at Logan waiting for a departure time to be announced for their flight back to New York.

Harvey bites the bullet and calls when Mike excuses himself to go to the restroom. As he expects, Marcus thinks he’s trying to get away from spending Christmas with his family. But the truth is that if Harvey wanted to avoid the ordeal, he’d have a far better excuse than being stuck in Boston with Mike. First of all, it’s Boston. Second of all, it’s _Boston_. And he resents the implication that he would try to go back on his word, which is exactly what he tells Marcus when he accuses him of just that.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of you not even being in the state of New York.”

“Neither are you,” Harvey says pointedly and Marcus has the audacity to snort at that. “Besides, I am merely delayed, we were late flying in, we’re late flying out.” What Harvey doesn’t mention is that their arrival was delayed by 15 minutes, whereas they are currently on the second hour of waiting for a boarding time to even be announced.

“So you’ll miss dinner, and mom.” Alright, so maybe Harvey isn’t exactly excited to sit across from his mother, feigning pleasantries during dinner and biting his tongue while the twins open her gifts. But he still wouldn’t go back on his word. Besides, turning her platitudes into a drinking game is a sincere holiday highlight.

“I’ll be there just in time for a nightcap. Besides, you always complain about the hostile environment I apparently create. I’d have thought you’d be thrilled that we’ll be missing each other.”

“Why did you not even tell me about this? And who is ‘we’ exactly? And who even goes away on business on Christmas Eve?”

“Business stops for no man.” Harvey glances towards the back of the lounge, in the direction of the restrooms. Mike appears, rubbing his hands together and approaching the bar. He’d  hoped this conversation would’ve wrapped up by the time Mike returned.

“I didn’t realize the Christmas had become corporeal.”

“The people who don’t celebrate are decidedly real.”

“And of course they want to do business with my shithead of a brother.”

“They want the best.” Marcus snorts at that, and Harvey can picture his face as he hears it.

Mike’s done at the bar and saunters over looking pleased as punch as he drops himself down across from Harvey. He nods at the phone, curiosity piqued. Harvey ignores him and continues,  
“I’m sorry, they just called our flight.”

He hears Marcus say, “Bye, jackass,” before hanging up. He slips his phone into his coat pocket, studying Mike’s bounty. He has a fresh drink in his hand, a bowl of candied almonds as well and cookies, all precariously grasped in his fists.

“Who are you lying to?” He asks, tipping the bowl of nuts in Harvey’s direction. Harvey declines with a raised eyebrow.

“It wasn’t a lie. Didn’t you hear them mention flight VS3093? If you’re developing a hearing problem you should get it looked at. There’s no purpose to a good insurance plan if it isn’t utilized.”

“Ah, but they said it was delayed, which we already knew.”

“I didn’t say we were boarding, just that our flight was called.” Harvey punctuates with a smug smile. Surely, Mike knows better than to dig. He seems to consider this skeptically, sucking on a candied nut far with far more flair than should be allowed in public. Harvey adds, “Honestly, Mike, it’s like you’re not even a lawyer.”

“Ha ha, I didn’t hear any complaints at the deposition,” Mike says, completely undisturbed. He points a Santa cookie at Harvey sternly. Or well, as sternly as one can point a Santa cookie at someone.

“Haven’t you had enough?” By Harvey’s count Mike’s already eaten half his weight in complimentary peppermint bark and pumpkin spice truffles.

“Have I had enough of the zero dollar refreshments? Absolutely not.” He punctuates this by biting into the Santa.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Harvey says, but his voice probably belies that out of all the people to be stuck in an airport with, Mike is definitely number one on his list.  Or at least he is when he isn’t riding a sugar high the size of a small mountain.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that deflection,” Mike singsongs and slumps back into his seat.  His tie is loosened, and he seems perfectly content to stay in the business lounge indefinitely. As opposed to all the stern, sullen faces that surround them.

Mike hums along to the holiday music that fills the air, seemingly still expecting a response. He leaves Harvey no choice but to revert to the oldest weapon in his arsenal against Mike: ignoring him.

Harvey carefully surveys the magazines spread out on their table, and picks up _The Economist_. Mike’s already read most of the magazines available in the lounge, and this is no exception. He flips a page of the magazine casually, making a show of processing the information on the page. He’s not paying attention to it at all, instead pleased when Mike starts to jiggle his leg. His restlessness amuses Harvey to no end and he commends himself inwardly. He’d like to see the (no doubt, poorly hidden) exasperation on Mike’s face, but that would give him away.

Eventually, Mike gets up with a sigh and declares, “I’m going to check out the shops.”

“You’re not going to find any suitable gifts for me there.” Harvey looks up at him with an air of boredom, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“Scrooge doesn’t get gifts.” He’s nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. No doubt cresting the peak of his sugar high. Harvey can only hope he’ll be nowhere near when Mike finally crashes. “Will you watch my stuff?

“Absolutely not.” Harvey smiles as he says it; if Mike is going to call him Scrooge, then that’s what he’s getting.

“Does the Grinch know you stole his shtick?” Mike says, but settles into his oversized parka nonetheless. He lugs his bag on his shoulder and sweeps his drink. “Feel free to finish the carefully selected refreshments I brought back.”

Harvey ignores his comment, and just says. “If you miss our flight the make up one will be out-of-pocket.”

Mike just waves him off. “You know, they have screens with boarding information among the common people. It'll be fine.”

 

*

 

Harvey is perfectly fine with Mike thinking he’s a Scrooge, or a Grinch or whatever other Christmas villain he has in mind. It’s better than him knowing the only reason they’re actually in Boston on Christmas Eve to begin with is Mike.

Of course, it was good business to get the Patel deposition out of the way, but the truth is it could have waited until Monday, something Jessica made very clear. She’d seemed almost concerned about Harvey dragging Mike out of town on the eve of holidays, as if it were a punishment for something she should know about. But the thing is: she hadn’t seen Mike’s face when Harvey had mentioned that the trip had been a possibility.

He’d been in Harvey’s office when Donna passed on the request, and Mike did his best to poker face his way through the information dump, but Harvey still saw right through it. His eyebrows had jerked up, and he’d opened his mouth like he was going to say something but his face had just… frozen. It was the kind of look Mike got when he was trying to hide how excited he was about something.

He’d asked if his presence would be needed, not even looking at Harvey, as if he couldn’t care less what the response was. When Harvey told him it was a stupid question, even for Mike, a smile tugged at his lips, and he nodded with a satisfied exhale. He hadn’t asked for more details, but his mood was considerably lifted.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Mike was excited about traveling around Christmas because he had nothing else going on. Of course, Harvey didn’t want to assume, but-- Mike hadn’t come running to him with any predicaments of the personal variety in a while, not since the ordeal that followed his grandmother’s death. And while Harvey would like to think that it’s because Mike has learned not to brief Harvey on the soap opera that is his life, the likelier explanation is that Mike hasn’t had much going on outside of work.

The kid really needed to work on his tells.

Harvey is well aware that letting Mike sway his decisions like that is tantamount to playing with fire. But playing with fire is exciting, and well, if there’s one thing Harvey likes to say about himself it’s that he likes excitement. And there a legitimate purpose to their trip. There’s no harm in it also keeping Mike distracted.

But he really should have factored in the weather.

 

*

 

Harvey meets Mike at the gate when their flight is called at last. He’s still bundled up, slumped on a seat, with his bag on the seat next to him. He moves it to his lap when Harvey approaches, parking his carry on at Mike’s feet. He looks less than thrilled.

“Did you finally come down from sugar mountain?”

“The cake is a lie,” Mike says.

“Is that so?” A glimpse outside reveals snow flurries weaving tightly across the sky, as luggage carriers work on the ground. It’s impossible to gauge the temperature outside from where they are, but frankly, it looks cold as fuck. Mike may have a point.

Mike nods at the attendants behind the desk, on the phone. They look irritable. “Those are not the faces of people who like what they’re hearing.”

“Hm.” Harvey takes the seat, and watches as the gate fills up with more and more expecting people, while the view outside blurs with more snow.

*

They wait for almost an hour for their flight to be officially canceled. The flight attendants mutter something unintelligible in the speakers, but there’s no need to decipher it, really. It’s quite obvious from their view out the window that the inclement weather that delayed their departure from New York in the morning has traveled north, and has increased in severity.

It’s pretty clear they’re not making it back tonight, even if all the flights were to be cleared.  
There's families huddled on the ground by the gates. The transfer desks are surrounded by people looking like they're ready to leap over the dividers and assault those keeping them in the airport. Mike and Harvey aren’t even let into the business lounge because they’re over capacity, which is completely unheard of.

“It’s like a scumbag yard sale,” Mike scoffs and although Harvey knows Mike’s trying to be clever, it also seems quite true. A boy is throwing a tantrum five feet away from them and his pregnant mother watches, her expression vacant. As if she can’t even begin to care. Harvey doesn’t really blame her, but he has no interest in looking on.

“Should we pick up some hotel vouchers?” Mike asks looking at Harvey expectantly.

“No,” he says with as much vehemence as he can muster. There’s no need to stoop to that. He can arrange a hotel. And then they’ll be set. All they need is a change of clothes, which they can easily gather on site, which is good. It means they can avoid looking for open stores on Christmas. “Pick up a change of clothes. Keep the receipts. Meet back here in half an hour.”

Mike salutes Harvey and is engulfed by the crowd as soon as he steps away.

The shopping options being what they are Harvey settles for the Hugo Boss store. He has an extra shirt and tie tucked into his carry on, but he has no interest in exposing them or his suit to the elements more than he absolutely has to, so he picks up a full change of clothes: sweater, slacks, underwear and socks, as well as a scarf and gloves. He may be wearing a Mackage coat, but if he has to spend more than five minutes outside it might not cut it.

Harvey has no interest in hearing Marcus give him shit, so he texts him about the indefinite delay.

His phone buzzes immediately with a reply, as if Marcus was expecting this turn of events. It’s a photo of a turkey being basted. The accompanying text reads: _not saving any 4 u_

_I only care about the pie._

_not saving that either._

“I got you a hat,” Mike says popping up behind Harvey and startling him. Harvey quickly drops his phone in his pocket, as Mike crowds him.

Harvey glances back and is met with a stretched out pom pom beanie, BOSTON proudly printed on it. Mike’s wearing a matching one, and it’s absolutely atrocious. Harvey refuses to touch it.

“You know how I said you couldn’t find me a gift here? This is why.”

Mike rolls his eyes, smile still plastered on his face. It’s such a contrast to the sour mood of everyone around them, there’s a tug at the corner of Harvey’s mouth. He suppresses the smile; he can’t let Mike think that such behavior is acceptable.

Mike seems to see right through him and singsongs, “A hat is a hat is a hat. You’ll thank me later.” He stuffs the beanie into his pockets, the pom pom sticking out. He takes his time putting on brand new Red Sox mittens. Harvey can’t take him anywhere.

“Did you only buy Boston paraphernalia? Is that what happened?”

“When in Boston…” Mike trails off and shrugs. He adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Where to, Scrooge?”

 

*

 

Harvey calls in a favor and secures them a two bedroom suite at the Fifteen Beacon for the night.

It's been set up with all the Christmas fixings. A decorated tree in the lounge, garlands and glass decorations tucked against the walls. There’s a large bouquet of poinsettias on the coffee table. There's even stockings above the fireplace.

“How did Donna land this place?” Mike sounds sufficiently impressed, eyes darting around the lounge and dropping his bags artlessly by the sofa. He heads straight for the Christmas tree.

“I’ll have you know I am actually capable of handling my own reservations.”

Mike processes that with an eloquent, “Huh.” He pokes at the lit up tree. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask them to undress this place, then.”

“Sadly there were no Grinch trees available.”

Mike’s still wearing his Boston hat, the pom dusted with snow even though they were only outside into and from the town car. He takes it off and drops it on the couch before continuing his investigation of the tree. “I gotta say, this is one of the best fake trees I’ve seen.”

“If you’d like to lodge a complaint I’m sure they could try to trudge up a real one.” Harvey picks up the godforsaken hat from the couch. He brings it to the bathroom, along with his and Mike’s coat, placing them against the towel warmers to dry them off.  

Mike has moved on to investigating the packages under the tree when Harvey returns. He holds one and shakes it carefully, teases, “Harvey you shouldn't have.”

Harvey rolls his eyes, making his way to the bar. “Yes, you got me. This was all part of my master plan.”

It’s well stocked, as Harvey remembers from previous stays there. There’s no Macallan, but a bottle of Balvenie that will do just fine. He twists it open and splashes a bit into a tumbler, draining it quickly. Yes, it’ll do just fine. He tops up his glass generously.

Mike is still fascinated by the boxes under the tree. He’s looking comfortable as he crouches on the floor, even though there is a footstool right by the tree. He holds up a neatly wrapped box, asks, “What do you think they have in here anyway?”

“What did we say about tedious questions? Empty boxes.”

“A swanky place like this? No way.”

“So open it.”

“It's not Christmas yet.” Mike studies Harvey at the bar. “Are you actually raiding the minibar?”

“There’s nothing mini about it. Do you want something?”

“Is there any IPA in there?”

“If there isn’t I’m sure they’d be happy to bring some up from the bar.”

“Fancy fuckers,” Mike says, but there’s no bite to it. He abandons the packages under the tree to investigate the bar fridge. Harvey starts for the balcony window: their view is supposed to be of the park, but at this point it’s dark, and the snow is falling so thickly it’s blurring even the streetlights.

“I'm pretty sure the airline would've put us up at the Hilton,” Mike says, joining Harvey by the windows. He’s still trying to sound unimpressed. It’s downright adorable, how blase he tries to be sometimes. It doesn’t suit him at all.  

“I'm going to pretend like you didn't just suggest we stay at an airport hotel.”

“Sometimes it’s good to slum it, Harvey. See how the other half lives.” He takes a swig from his beer.

“Obviously not,” Harvey says, gesturing throughout the lounge. “I’m sure Virgin still has a voucher with your name on it, if you want to take them up on it.”

“Alright, let’s not get crazy. I’m only just settling in here, after all. We can give this place a shot.” He leans back on his heels. Mike asks with a lilt, “So what now?”

It would be a lie for Harvey to say he doesn't like it, that Mike's asking him what they should do next. He doesn’t actually have a plan at this point. A shower wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome, but he definitely needs to eat first, before a headache settles at the base of his skull. A meal might even elevate him to Mike’s spirits.

“We should get changed. We can have our suits dry cleaned so they'll be ready for when we fly back tomorrow.” Mike nods in agreement. “And since I didn’t stuff myself with airport snacks, I need a proper meal.”

“Are you punishing me for my ability to take advantage of my excellent budgeting skills?”

“Budgeting skills?”

“Taking advantage of complimentary snacks is a vital part of budgeting.”

“Mhm. Well, I won’t be force feeding you. In fact, you don’t have to come at all if you don’t want.”

He places his hand against his stomach idly. “I suppose a balanced meal wouldn’t be out of order.”

“Good.” Harvey drains his glass. 

“Let’s find out what’s in the stockings, first.”

 

*

 

Dinner is excellent, and both of their spirits are high. Mike insists on them getting the Christmas special with all the extras, and plenty of drinks. He scrapes his plate clean and he must be sufficiently loosened up because he leans back in his seat with a groan when he’s done.

“I ate too much,” he says with a whine, “You knew I ate at the airport, why would you bring me here?”

Harvey doesn't even try to stop the amused grin from spreading on his face. Mike doesn't see it anyway, his eyes shut in proper dramatic fashion. He’s probably fighting the urge to undo the button on his pants.

“No one made you eat anything.”

“It all sounded so good. And it's not like I could just watch you eat everything, you never let me taste your food.”

Harvey, ever the sensible one, ate just enough and ordered himself a coffee and digestif. Harvey doesn't answer that, just sips on his coffee instead. It’s dark and bitter and perfect. Mike looks at him like just the thought of adding fluids to his stomach makes him feel ill.

“I don't think I can move.”

“Getting into the Christmas spirit, then.”

“That's not funny.”

“You’ll have to move sooner or later, they do need the table.” They’ve already taken their plates away, and Harvey has noticed the waiter throwing glances their way. Nothing too intrusive, of course. He sweeps the last of his coffee, “My bet is on sooner.”

“They'll have to carry me up,” Mike says with determination. He huffs out a breath and tries to sit up straight, looking serious.

“I don't think that's a service they offer.”

“Maybe if you tipped better, they would.”

Harvey laughs at that. “Oh, _I_ have to tip better? Why is it my responsibility? Do explain your logic.”

“Well you're the one who's going to be embarrassed to be seen with me as I roll into the elevator. Literally, roll. Because I don’t think I can crawl either.”

“I don't do embarrassed.”

“I'll add that to the long list of things Harvey Specter doesn’t do,” Mike says, his tone light but biting all the same. Harvey's not sure he wants to know what else is on this list.

“Besides I don’t think the elevator is wide enough for you to roll into. If the situation is as dire as you say, I'm sure they'll lend you a wheelchair.”

Mike gives him an incredulous look. Harvey shrugs. “I'm not going to use a wheelchair.”

“They should have at least one at their disposal. I can certainly ask for you.”

“Harvey. _No_.”

Harvey picks up his napkin and discards it onto the table thoughtfully. It lands on Mike’s outstretched hand, and he doesn’t even bother to move. “I suppose it would start an unpleasant precedent.”

He can’t help but laugh at Mike’s expression. It’s as if he fears Harvey will dare him to follow through. He very well could. His phone buzzes at that moment and thoughtlessly he plucks it out of his pocket. Another photo from Marcus, this time it’s Katie holding the twins, their lips puckered at the camera.

“Who’s that?”

“Hmm?” It’s a poor attempt at stalling, and Mike’s not having it. He narrows his eyes at Harvey, and leans forward. As if his earlier floppiness was all for show.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen you fiddle with your phone all day. I really hope you haven’t been sexting someone this whole time because that’s bad form. For everyone involved.”

“You just answered your own question.”

“So? It’s not Jessica, or Donna because you wouldn’t be hiding that from me. And neither of them require updates on what you’re having for dinner. Is it a Boston booty call? Do we need to come up with a doorknob code of some kind?”

Harvey tips his head at that, and hopefully conveys how ridiculous that statement sounds. “Please.”

“I don’t know, Harvey.”

“If you must know,” Harvey starts and Mike looks at him expectantly. He brings his espresso cup to his mouth, remembering it’s empty and settles for biting the inside of his cheek. There isn’t really any point in hiding it at this point. “It’s my brother. He’s sending me photos of what his family is up to.”

“That’s…nice?” Mike seems uncertain. “Does he live far away?”

“Jersey.”

“He lives in Jersey? And you weren’t going to see him for Christmas? That’s like two hours away from you. I mean, Harvey-- even for you, that’s…” Mike trails off and his mouth remains open, as if he’s trying to process what he just said. He backtracks. “No, you were going to spend Christmas with him weren’t you? But instead you’re stuck here with me because of some stupid deposition and weather conditions.”

“It’s not stupid,” Harvey corrects him.

“But it could wait, couldn’t it?” It’s pointed, and true and Harvey doesn’t care to respond to it.

The way Mike’s looking at him is a little too inquisitive and knowing, like puzzle pieces are slotting into place. It’s making his skin itch. But he’s not one to look away, so he stares back, his jaw clenching reflexively.

Since the cat’s out of the bag anyway, he brings his phone back out and responds to Marcus’s text. _Tell them their gifts are worth the wait._

 

*

 

Their suits have been picked up by housekeeping when they return upstairs. Mike disappears into his room, not bothering to close the door behind him. Harvey can hear him groan as he flops onto his bed.

Harvey gets to work feeding the fireplace, suddenly restless. Not for the first time, he wonders if it was such a wise choice to get them a suite. He teeters on the edge of professionalism with Mike at all times, and that’s when they’re in public. And now they’re alone. And Mike, the genius that he is, has figured out that the only reason they’re even here is because Harvey has a soft spot for him the size of Manhattan. And god knows what he’ll do with that information. Harvey sighs into his hand, watching the small flames lick around the log.

He isn’t entirely out of options. He could easily retreat to his own room. Perhaps do some work, call it a day. Or he could call Marcus, spend a couple minutes on the phone with the twins and assure them that he’ll see them soon.

A look out the window reveals that the storm has settled, the city untouched and waiting. He could go out, have a drink. He remembers some good bars with live music that must still be open. It might be good, getting away from Mike right now, but he’s hesitant and the thought of walking away from him puts a sour taste in his mouth. It might read as dramatic, even though it isn’t.

His train of thought is interrupted by Mike calling out for him, and Harvey pads over to his room. Mike is splayed out on the bed, as if he'd backed up and let himself fall down as soon as the mattress touched the back of his legs.

“Yes?”

“Did you see there’s mistletoe in the doorway?”

Harvey looks up: indeed, there is mistletoe hanging there. “Is that what you called me here for?” He steps away from it, walks close enough that his knees knock against Mike's. He nudges at them, waiting for a response. Mike shrugs where he lays.

“We need to go out.”

“I thought you couldn't move?”

“It’s not going to be pretty, but if I don't move now I might actually never move again. I won't be able to fall asleep like this. Besides, it's still so early.”

“What do you suggest?”

Mike rises at that, leaning back on his elbows. “You’re the one who went to school around here.”

“Yes, time that was spent studying. Not touristing. I know you’re unfamiliar with the concept, but most of us actually needed to read things more than once to remember them.” Mike rolls his eyes at that.  
“Besides,” Harvey continues, “you have access to all of the world wide web, yet you expect me to come up with an itinerary to amuse you?”

Mike’s expression is the embodiment of _duh_. “You should be flattered that I trust your opinion at all.”

Harvey hums to himself. Mike looks at up at him expectantly, as if he's already won, which he may have, but there’s no need for him to know right away. He pretends to consider his options, although there’s really only one worth considering.

“Would you like to see the largest Christmas tree in all of New England?”

 

*

 

Faneuil Hall is within walking distance of the hotel. What would normally be a quick stroll is slowed down by the layers of snow they plow through on their way. The light show is already underway when they arrive at the marketplace, the booming orchestral music guiding their way to the spot where the Christmas tree stands proudly. It looms large and bright, flashing purple and blue and white in time withe the music. Mike looks absolutely delighted.

“Okay, I’m impressed.” Mike stares up and turns around, observing all the trees surrounding them as they flash on and off in sync with the music. Individual lights have been placed at the tips of the branches, making it look like the trees are reaching for the sky. It’s definitely one of the more impressive light shows Harvey has seen, and the thick coat of snow just adds to it.

“This must have been an incredible date spot,” Mike murmurs, mouth still agape. If Harvey hears him right, his voice is tinged with a hint of jealousy. “You must have come here all the time when you were at Harvard.”

He could deny it, but it would be a lie. It was a great date spot, and he’d been with Scottie a couple of times when they were on good terms. And with some other people on other occasions. But he doesn’t want to discuss that now.

“Come on,” Harvey says and leads Mike towards to the path that winds around the marketplace. It veers from where the resilient crowd has gathered, and gives them the opportunity to inspect the decorated trees at a closer distance.

They’ve been out for almost an hour, and the cold is already eating away at Harvey. His designer wear may look fabulous, but it isn’t doing much in terms of shielding him from the cold. The chill is merciless against his nose and his ears. He's pretty certain they're going to fall off at any given time.

Mike may look ridiculous, dressed up as a walking Boston advertisement, but he's probably going to escape this trip with all of his appendages intact.

Harvey adjusts his scarf so it covers his mouth and nose and he tries to breathe out some hot air to warm his face up. Who needs ears, anyway?

Mike flashes a devious smile. The awning above them is lit red and yellow, bathing him in a devilish light. He digs into his pocket and takes out the godawful Boston beanie he bought him. Harvey stares, trying to convey his disgust, but he's pretty sure it just looks like his features have frozen solid.

“No,” he says, but it's muffled by his scarf, making him sound as stubborn as a three year old.

“You look stupid and rich.” Mike’s breath puffs out, hot, and mocking. Leave it to Mike to throw a quote at him right now. “And also like your ears are going to fall off.”

Harvey narrows his eyes at him, unable to protest when Mike leans into him and forces the hat onto Harvey’s head. He pulls it down properly, and rubs his mittened hands over Harvey's ears. Ruining his perfect hair, no doubt.

“That's right, old man, let the youngin’ take care of you,” Mike says with a grin. He leans back, admiring his handiwork, hands pressing against Harvey’s shoulders. “You look ridiculous.”

Maybe it’s the way Mike looks under the lights, or that he’s standing so close, his but it takes everything Harvey has not to lean down and wipe the wicked smile off of Mike's face with his mouth.

Instead he scoffs. “You should see yourself.”

“I look charming. I'm sure I could pass for an official spokesperson.”

“That’s not something to be proud of.”

“Sure it is.” Mike practically beaming. “I helped the local economy with these purchases. And when I return home, and people see me decked out they’ll remember Boston is a place that they could visit.”

“And when exactly did people forget about Boston?”

“They’ll remember it as option. You can only have so many places in mind. Nice boy like me, if I’m advertising it it must be a great destination.”

“You’ve thought about this far too much.” Mike shrugs. “I suppose the city owes you a debt of gratitude.”

It must be payback for his smugness because just then, as he steps to walk away the ground slips beneath Harvey’s foot and he can feel himself sliding towards the ground. It’s not in slow motion: in fact it’s incredibly fast.

“Harvey!” Mike calls out, and pulls at Harvey's arm. It's too late though, all Harvey can do is focus on landing well. He manages to lean back and gently slide onto his back, the atrocious hat cushioning his head as he hits the ground.

Once he's down, Harvey can't stop laughing. Mike is hovering over him with a twisted grin on his face. He looks concerned and amused and it just makes Harvey laugh harder. Mike's still holding on to Harvey's jacket, half leaning, half standing, like he doesn’t want to let go. Harvey pulls his arm back and well, it’s not on purpose exactly, but he’s certainly amused when Mike starts slipping too, landing half on top of Harvey and half on the ground.

He’s laughing so hard his breath catches in his throat, and Mike stabs his finger into his chest. “You did that on purpose.”

“I’m not too old to take you down with me,” he smirks, and half-heartedly bats Mike’s hand away from his chest.

“You know, if you weren’t wearing those ridiculous Prada shoes you wouldn’t need those slippery overshoes and then this would never have happened.”

“That’s called victim blaming. And these are not Prada, they are John Lobb. I didn’t come here expecting to wade through a winter wonderland, I can hardly be blamed.”

“But you did anyway. For me,” Mike says, and he’s so close he looks almost cross-eyed.

Harvey has no good response, but even if he did he wouldn’t have been able to say anything because Mike’s mouth closes over his. He did not see this coming at all. He should have seen this coming, shouldn’t he?

He can’t help but reciprocate; he doesn’t have anywhere to go, really, with Mike pressing down on him, mouth hot and demanding. Harvey’s lips are dry and chafed but that doesn’t matter much. He can’t help but open up, judgment slipping as Mike’s tongue meets his. Mike pulls away with satisfied smirk.

 

*

 

They don't last too long outside and stumble back to the hotel when the flurries pick up again. Mike's nose and cheeks are flushed a deep red, which means Harvey's face probably looks just as bad, if not worse.

They don’t talk about the kiss, although Mike clasps Harvey’s hand and refuses to let go, saying, “It’s all fun and games until someone breaks a hip.” Harvey would protest, but the uptick of snowfall has left him unsteady on his feet. And well, he doesn’t exactly mind holding onto Mike.

They go to their separate rooms wordlessly. Harvey shakes off his clothes, his coat and pants are almost completely soaked from his tumble. Buying one change of clothes was apparently not enough.

He’s covered in gooseflesh, partially from the cold, but also from Mike’s move. He doesn’t waste any time getting into the shower, to warm up, but also to subdue his nerves. His face prickles painfully from the sudden heat, nerves awakening sharply. He opens his mouth to the stream of water, letting it fill and spill out. He's can practically feel Mike’s presence twenty feet away, in his own shower. He can picture it: water beating against his flesh, and Mike’s open mouth, and-- Harvey shakes the visuals from his head.

He lets the steam fill the bathroom while he stands under the stream of the shower for as long as he can stand, hopefully washing all the bad decisions he might make off of him. He has to be prepared to shut Mike down if he has to.

For the first time that day, he starts to wonder whether this whole thing wasn’t just a poor decision, but a mistake.

 

*

 

Harvey comes out of the bathroom feeling fresher and more grounded, ready to stop  Mike if he has to. Instead he’s faced with a somber Mike sitting on the sofa, wet hair matted over his forehead and his face dull. Like his shower washed away the cheerfulness of the day.

He doesn't stir when Harvey approaches, holding his watch in his hand.

“Hey,” Harvey says, and Mike looks up at him, and looks away again. He might be opening a can of worms, but he has to ask. “What's wrong?”

Mike taps his watch once and and quickly puts it on the coffee table. “If I was home-- I mean, if Grammy were alive and I was home, we'd be at mass right now.”

Harvey maps out the city in his head, says, “Holy Cross isn't too far, we can go if you like. It might be standing room only but that's alright.”

“Harvey, you don't have to humor me.” He looks offended that Harvey would even suggest it.

“I'm not,” he says, and he's insulted that Mike would think he is. He should know Harvey better by now. It might seem ridiculous to go back out when they're both freshly scrubbed and warm, wrapped in dry bathrobes-- but that doesn't mean they couldn't do it. Especially not if it’s something Mike needs.

Mike seems to consider it. He closes his eyes, finally, and leans back, his leg propped up on the coffee table. “No, I don't want to. I only went for her, anyway.” His fingers pull at the belt on his bathrobe, as if he needs to keep his hands busy.

The bottle of Balvenie is still out, so Harvey fetches two tumblers and pours them each a generous serving before joining Mike on the sofa. He’s close enough that their bathrobes are touching. Too close, probably. But this isn’t the time to be focusing on such matters.

Mike takes his glass and cradles it in his hands before taking a proper gulp. “I haven’t thought about her at all today. How horrible is that? She was the only person I had for so long and I didn't even think about her.”

Harvey doesn’t really know what to say to that. Even if he wanted to reassure Mike that it’s okay to move on, he wouldn’t believe him. Instead, he asks, “What else?”

Mike looks confused at that. The question is plain on his face: why does Harvey want to talk about this? And it's a bit of a stab in the gut, but he’s not one to back down.  He persists,“What else would you do?”

Mike sighs. “She’d stay with me overnight. She’d get my bed, of course, and she’d complain about the mattress being too thin. And I'd take her out for Christmas breakfast. And we'd exchange gifts, although I always told her she didn't need to give me anything. Last year, we took a horse-drawn carriage ride through Central Park but it wasn't that great.”

“Sounds very romantic.” Harvey can certainly picture it, the two of them, huddled under blankets.

Mike narrows his eyes at him, says, “Don't laugh.”

“I wouldn't dare.” Harvey raises his hands and shakes his head.

“It wasn’t that great. It started raining halfway through and we got soaked. She loves horses, her family used to own one when she was a kid. She's always telling me about him, Pegasus, they called him. She used to think if he galloped fast enough they'd fly. I thought it would a nice gesture. She just felt bad for the horse though.” Mike smiles fondly. “I mean. Loved. She loved horses.”

Harvey doesn’t have anything to say to that. He watches Mike bite his lip and lean back in the couch. He wishes he could just, cup his face, and make the pain go away. But it would only be temporary. A placebo that most likely wouldn’t be welcome in normal circumstances. He grinds his teeth at the thought, and swallows down his scotch.

After a moment of silence, Mike takes a deep breath, says, “Okay, enough melancholy. What about you? What would you be doing if you were home, with your brother?”

“Probably crushing my brother and his wife in Monopoly.” And avoiding the lump they call a bed in the guest bedroom.

“Oh yeah?”

Harvey nods. “And then haul out the mountains of gifts they get the twins. We always have to wait until past midnight because they keep sneaking down, trying to catch Santa red handed.”

A smile tugs at Mike’s lips and finishes his drink. He considers Harvey for a moment before saying, “I got you a gift.” Harvey must look surprised because Mike looks pleased, grinning quick and easy. “Don’t get too excited.”

He practically bounces off of the couch.  Harvey pours himself some more scotch while Mike rummages through his bag in his room. He is genuinely thrown off.  “You had it with you?”

“I figured I'd give it to you when we got back. But it's officially Christmas Day now.” He returns with a flat paper bag, and hands it off to Harvey. “It's not wrapped or anything.”

Harvey tips over the bag, and a comic book slides out easily. It's in a sealed bag. He turns it over carefully. Superman Annual #11, 1985.

“ _For The Man Who Has Everything_ ,” Harvey reads out loud. He's not too familiar with comic books, but he knows this one. The one where Batman and Robin rescue Superman. Because two are better than one. He's not sure that Mike even knows the story. Leave it to Mike to pick up a gag gift that actually ends up meaning something more. “Have you read it?”

Mike shakes his head. “It's not rare or anything, but I thought it was fitting, especially since we’re in Boston. What do you get the man who has everything?”

“The Thomas Crown Affair,” Harvey says, and Mike nods. He clears his throat. “I don't have everything.”

“You do now,” Mike says, and he means the comic, Harvey knows, but it hits him the chest. If he has Mike, he does have everything. He swallows thickly, putting the comic back into the paper bag.

“I didn't get you anything.”

Mike narrows his eyes at him, like it's the most stupid thing Harvey's ever said. “Okay. What do you call all this?”

Harvey shrugs. “We needed to stay somewhere.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Mike says, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Thank you.” Harvey clears his throat, watches Mike settle back onto the sofa. He seems pensive again, and Harvey grabs hold of his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You know, I thought about leaving. The firm. I thought that would be a good gift. Nothing left hanging over your head. No more of a fuckup fake associate shitting the bed. You'd be free and clear.”

Harvey's throat seizes at that, and his grip tightens on Mike's hand. “No, that would not have been a gift. Not at all.”

“You say that now, but you know. It would be for the best.” He inhales deeply. “I don't need the job anymore, you know? Without Grammy... there's no one depending on me anymore. I'm sure I could figure something out. I've got enough in the bank to cover rent for a while. I could even go back to school. I couldn’t be a lawyer, but I might be able to do something else. At least I got to live the dream for a while.”

"I depend on you." Harvey expects some dig about how Harvey totally cares, and Mike knew it all along. But Mike just looks at him, he still looks sad. He looks tired and worn out,  the mourning still heavy on his face.

“Harvey--” Mike says, and he shifts, now the one holding on to him. “Harvey-- you can't say stuff like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I might actually believe you.”

“Believe me,” Harvey says and squeezes Mike's hand. Mike looks down at where their hands are joined, and he then he looks up at Harvey. He's looking for something, some sort of clue. Harvey has no idea what Mike is looking for, but he hopes he sees it.

He watches as Mike leans into him, his face getting impossibly closer, and Harvey can't move because he can't really believe it's happening until Mike's kissing him, again. Just a soft press of lips.

“Mike-- we can't.” Harvey pulls away, reluctantly. As much as he'd like to just give in, pull Mike into him, he can't. Mike looks wounded, and Harvey wants to wipe that look off his face.

“I'm sorry. I mean, I'm not sorry, but I'm sorry for putting you in this situation. It's fine.”

He cups Mike's face, it’s still damp from the shower, and his thumb glides easily over Mike’s cheekbone. Mike leans into it sending shivers down his arm.

“This is not the time.” Mike's breath is hot against his wrist. He counts them, three puffs of air before Mike moves away, pressing a kiss to Harvey's palm before taking his hand.

“Then when is it time?”

“Mike…” Harvey voice is thick, and he's honestly not sure what to say. If Mike keeps going there's no way he'll be able to stop him. He's too tired to resist, really. He gathers himself, and tries to think it through so he can formulate a response. Why? Why isn’t this the time? Because Mike is still vulnerable and hurting and still reeling from the loss of his grandmother. Because Harvey doesn’t want Mike to wake up tomorrow and regret everything. He knows how impulsive and self destructive Mike can be: he’s seen it first hand. He has no interest in being one in the line of many of Mike’s poor decisions.

Mike shakes his head, like he can see all the thoughts racing through Harvey’s mind and that he thinks they’re all completely wrong.“You’re so wrong. It’s kind of ridiculous, honestly.” A small sad laugh escapes his mouth. Harvey remains silent. “You told me to believe you.”

Harvey can’t deny that, so he remains silent.

“So you should believe me too, okay? This isn’t some misplaced form of grief. I tried to will it away. But I guess I never did have much willpower.”

Mike leans in again, and this time Harvey can’t resist it. It feels so good to just give in, and he meets Mike halfway, pulling him closer as they kiss. He can't be selfless and responsible with Mike so warm and needy,pressing right up against him. He pushing his tongue against the seam of Mike’s lips and he opens up with a moan, kiss deepening. It doesn’t matter that they’re sitting awkwardly and that Harvey’s neck hurts, because  moving would mean letting go and he’s not ready for that yet.

He pulls Mike closer, until he’s straddling him, and there’s no place Harvey would rather be right now. He hopes Mike can feel it. He can’t stop touching Mike, he cups his head, pushing his fingers into his hair.

He’s hard.  He could keep making out all night but when Mike starts grinding against him, he pulls away. They’re both out of breath and Mike paws at his chest desperately.

“Okay, okay,” Harvey says, mostly to ground himself. If Mike keeps going Harvey’s not going to be able to stop himself, and this is not how he wants this to happen. He pushes Mike farther down his lap, away from his groin. His grip tight around his hips to keep him in place. He needs to maintain some semblance of self-control. “I believe you. But this will have to wait. This is not the place.”

Mike whines, but he doesn’t try to move, fingers pulling at Harvey’s bathrobe. “You’re evil.”

Harvey shrugs, and presses another kiss to Mike’s mouth. He melts into it easily. “You’re really evil.” Mike says, when he pulls away again. Sighing heavily he moves back onto the sofa, leaning against the armrest and pushing his feet against Harvey’s thighs.

“I’m not going to argue with that,” Harvey says and smirks, hands grabbing onto Mike’s feet and fingers digging into the flesh.

 

*

 

Harvey wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing. He scrambles towards the direction of the sound. He squints, recognizing Marcus’s name on the display and accepts the call, sinking back into bed.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Harvey!” He has to hold the phone away from his face until the shouting stops. He can tell they have it on speaker, Katie trying to calm the kids down in the background.

“Good morning to you, too.” There’s gleeful shouting and Harvey can picture the twins falling over each other as they race towards the tree and the goodies beneath it.

He can hear Marcus laughing on the line. When he returns, the phone is off speaker. “They wanted to wake you up.”

“They succeeded. I guess this is payback for being away.”

“You know how it is, no opening presents until everyone in the family is up. And you’re still family, even though you’re not here.”

“Unfortunately,” he says, probably too loudly because Mike stirs next to him. He mumbles something unintelligible and rolls out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom.

“Is there someone there with you? Harvey?” Marcus sounds shocked, and if it weren’t way too early for this conversation Harvey would probably have the perfect response. It may be just after his regular wake up time but he and Mike stayed up far too late trying to determine what the ultimate holiday film was and ending each disagreement with a heated make out session. They’d made it through ‘Die Hard’, ‘Gremlins’ and ‘Diner’ before turning in, separating to be safe. Harvey had slept fitfully until Mike had joined him halfway through the night, loosely draping an arm over Harvey’s chest. “I promise to behave,” he’d murmured, and promptly passed out, Harvey following soon after.

So yes, Harvey’s a little pressed for a clever response to Marcus’s question.  Instead he settles for, “I have no idea to what you’re referring.”

Just as he says that he can hear the toilet flush and honestly-- shouldn’t a place like this have better sound isolation? Marcus laughs.

“Is that why you actually went to Boston? You had to go see about a girl or something?”

Harvey screws his eyes shut and groans. “First of all, what did I tell you about quoting Good Will Hunting?”

“Don’t do it.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s the second part?”

“Hm?” Harvey is distracted by  Mike shuffling back to bed, his eyes are still closed and his mouth is half open. He looks utterly ridiculous and Harvey wants nothing more than to have his way with him right now.

Marcus laughs again. “You said first of all, so I assume there’s a second of all.”

“Second of all. That’s wrong. On so many levels.”

Mike digs his way under the covers and plasters himself to Harvey’s side, mouth pressing against his chest and working its way up one rib at a time.

“But essentially, that’s what’s going on,” Marcus says, sounding so very pleased with himself.  Harvey doesn’t respond, even over the phone he knows arguing with Marcus is a futile endeavor. “That’s all the answer I needed. Wow.” Marcus pauses. “I guess it really is a merry Christmas for you.”

“That’s enough.” He tries to sound stern, and he’s pretty sure he succeeds because Mike looks up at him in confusion, and Harvey mouths ‘not you’ at him before he resumes his kissing, as if nothing happened. It is becoming awfully distracting, though.

Marcus, however,  just laughs at him. “Sure thing, dickhead. I’ll see you when I see you, right? Don’t wait up, and all that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harvey says into the phone and hangs up before Marcus has a chance to laugh at him again.

Mike ventures a bite on Harvey’s collarbone,  he's hard against Harvey's hip. Not unwelcome at all at this juncture. He reaches down, hand palming Harvey’s crotch. He’s taking a lot of initiative.  
“What do you think you're doing?” Harvey asks, phone securely placed back on the bedside table. He’s certainly enjoying Mike’s initiative. He lifts his hips to aid the process when Mike tugs at his underwear, pressing a line of kisses on Harvey’s hip and thigh.

“Didn't we establish that this was welcome?” He looks up at him, the half-asleep look gone from his face. His hand is hot and slick against Harvey’s dick. Harvey jerks involuntarily, hisses.

“Mhm,” Harvey smirks. He pulls at Mike so he's on top, straddling Harvey’s thighs, and he squeezes his bare ass.  Mike responds by pushing against him, his hard on pressing against Harvey's.

“I’m not alert enough to do what I want,” Harvey murmurs, and Mike responds with a grin and a kiss. He’s plastered against Harvey, chest to groin as he ruts against him.

“So let me,” Mike starts and gasps as he pushes them together, continuing, “do the work.”

Mike’s eyes hooded above him and he licks his lips. They’re shiny. Harvey pulls him into a filthy kiss, putting all his energy into it as he lays boneless under Mike.

He lets Mike set the pace, doing his best to meet his thrusts. They rut against each other until they both come, sticky and hot as Mike goes pliable and soft on top of him. Mike's heavier than he looks, pushing down on top of him, Harvey doesn't want to move. But he knows they’ll regret not washing up. He reluctantly rolls out from under Mike, who grunts his disapproval.

“Why don’t you order us breakfast.” He grabs the first hand towel he sees, and wipes himself clean, returning to the bed and doing the same to Mike, who seems to have become an immovable object.

Mike grunts. “It’s too early.”

“You seemed perfectly awake two seconds ago.”

“It’s too early to eat.” Mike grabs Harvey’s wrist and tugs until Harvey rolls back in bed. He tosses the towel into the laundry basket in the corner.  
“We should order it for later. That way, when we get up, we’ll have a hot breakfast ready and waiting.” He picks up the room phone and dials, when they pick up he passes the phone to Mike. “Get whatever you want, just don’t forget the coffee.”

Mike grunts again but doesn’t reject the phone when it’s placed in his hand. “Hi, just tell me all you’ve got and I’ll say if we want it or not. Yes. And we want it for later, like, two hours from now.”

Harvey can’t help but cradle Mike in his arms, playing with his hair as the timbre of Mike’s voice lulls him back to sleep.  

 

*

 

They manage to get up and shower before breakfast arrives. Two trays with a spread that covers the entirety of the dining table. There’s French toast, frittata, omelets, steak and eggs. There’s even a fruit salad with strawberries and mango. Essentially, Mike ordered the entire breakfast menu.  

“It’s not Christmas breakfast if it’s not gluttonous,” Mike says, loading up a plate and moving to the sofa like an animal. Harvey is civilized and works on the French press at the dining table. The kettle of hot water is the perfect temperature and he’s in the middle of a perfect pour when his phone starts ringing.

“Your phone is ringing,” Mike says around a large pancake bite. His plate is already half empty,

“Yes, I can hear that.”

Mike leans over the back of the couch, holding up Harvey’s cell for his inspection. It’s not a number he recognizes. As if reading his mind, Mike adds, “I think it’s the airline.”

Harvey shouldn’t be surprised. The weather obviously has improved. And if they leave now he’d be home in time for a late Christmas lunch at Marcus’s, probably. Then again, they’d probably have to leave right away and abandon the spread. He glances at Mike, open robe hanging loosely off of his shoulders, hair still on end. He leans further, trying to pass Harvey’s phone to him, says, “They probably have a flight for us.”

“They probably do.” Harvey keeps plunging the press, slow and steady as the ringing continues. This is not the time to be distracted by phone calls, or the coffee will be ruined. He says as much, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“If we don’t pick up they’ll give away our seats,” Mike continues, as if he were explaining it to a small child, stuffing his face with a piece of French toast.

“I suppose they will.” Mike just looks at him. Harvey can practically see the gears turning in his head. He swallows and bites his lip. The ringing stops.

“You can call them back, if you want,” Harvey offers and keeps his hand steady as he pours himself a cup of coffee. He lifts a cup in Mike’s direction, and he nods. Mike’s positively beaming, shaking his head. “So that’s a no for coffee? Because I promise this is better than what the coffee cart has to offer.”

“No-- I mean, yes to the coffee. Please. I just mean-- There’ll be another flight.”

“Yes.” Harvey prepares Mike’s cup and places it across from him. If he’s going to enjoy the fruits of the French press he’ll have to do it at the table. Mike seems to get the hint and takes the seat.

“There’ll be another flight,” he says, and takes the cup. He brings Harvey’s hand to his mouth and presses a quick kiss to his palm. “And I’m sure there are some people who really need to get home that will get to now. So this is really a selfless act.”

“Mhm, you keep telling yourself that.” Harvey watches as Mike sips his coffee, and adds more food to his plate.  “I know you’re fond of this tree and all, but we might have to downsize suites.”

“That’s perfectly fine by me,” Mike says, stretching out and putting his feet up on Harvey’s thighs. He strokes the inside of Harvey’s thigh with his heel as if to drive his point home, eyebrow quirked. “As long as we can open the gifts first and take them with us. Also, my bed should get some use out of it too, don’t you think?”

**Author's Note:**

> A few content notes:
> 
> In case you're curious, this is the [Faneuil Hall Light Show](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLo6NkUgxBM) (well, this year's at least.)
> 
> All movie quotes are from films set in Boston:  
> 1 - _It's like a scumbag yard sale_ ; Boondock Saints  
> 2 - _You look stupid and rich_ ; Love Story  
> 3 - _What do you get the man who has everything?_ ; The Thomas Crown Affair  
> 4 - _I have to go see about a girl_ ; Good Will Hunting
> 
> & Thank you for reading!


End file.
